


Consequences

by onereyofstarlight



Series: FAB Five Feb [5]
Category: Thunderbirds
Genre: Ambiguous/Open Ending, Angst, Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-12
Updated: 2020-05-11
Packaged: 2021-03-03 01:41:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 987
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24126793
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/onereyofstarlight/pseuds/onereyofstarlight
Summary: Gordon is once again in a sticky situation. A snapshot moment with an ending open to interpretation.
Series: FAB Five Feb [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1663633
Comments: 3
Kudos: 9





	Consequences

The aftermath of the 2040 Global Conflict reached much further into the future than any at the time could have predicted, and Scott angrily cursed the short sightedness of those who, desperate for control and power, had laid traps around the globe.

Traps that were the result of a paranoia that forced hundreds of millions to give up their right to privacy, to give up their right to safe passage across the continents, and to turn their back on their neighbours and friends. Traps that were set as governments prepared in secret for attacks that would never come, traps that were intended to protect a shoreline before it was overwhelmed by armed forces. Traps that had been lost in the resulting destruction of security technology, traps of which there was no complete record, and traps that were deadly to all who stumbled upon then, even now two decades in the future. Traps that had been sprung as Gordon explored the ocean floor, traps that had launched three acoustic homing torpedoes, locked onto the advanced, foreign, _threatening_ technology that was Thunderbird Four.

“I’ll have to ditch her,” said Gordon grimly as he eyed the sonar map displayed on Four’s control panel. “There’s no way I can evade these things forever.”

Scott swore, knowing Gordon was right. He flinched as one of the torpedo slammed into the side of the seamount Gordon had been poring over for the past week – a neat little vacation, as he’d cheerfully pitched it to Scott.

Some vacation.

“How do we know that they won’t follow you instead of Four?”

“They’re locked on to Four’s engine noise,” said John. “They’re using passive sonar, you should be fine.”

Scott looked up at his little brother, hands flying across holoscreens as he tried to override the torpedoes’ code. “I have access to their network now, I can see the commands they’re following. Just give me five minutes.”

“It’s not going to be enough, John,” said Gordon’s tense voice. “My telemetry shows impact in two minutes, d’you got a miracle for me?”

John said nothing and Scott watched him as his brow furrowed, heart in his throat. The seconds ticked by, precious seconds that Gordon could use to get clear of the force of impact, but still he waited on John, his faith in his brothers as strong as ever.

“Recommend immediate evacuation procedures,” he finally pronounced.

Gordon was out of his seat, helmet securely fastened, before John had finished speaking.

“Someone’s gonna come pick me up, right?” he asked with false cheer, as he pulled himself into one of the pressurised dry tube.

“Claustrophobia, is it?” asked John, the sarcasm rolling easily from his tongue. “Unusual for a submarine pilot.”

“Never been one to follow the crowd, Johnny.”

“Are you two finished? Homing missiles? Eminent explosion?”

“Fair point,” said Gordon, busying himself with the final preparations. He took a deep, steadying breath. “See you on the other side.”

Scott watched anxiously as the dry tube was deployed, his brother rising rapidly as the missiles slammed into his precious ‘bird beneath him.

There was silence in the room as the two men solemnly witnessed her passing in the stead of her pilot. There was no sound of the explosion, just a pressure wave that built and built until Thunderbird Five lost communication with her sister.

There was a slight shift in the atmosphere as John straightened, leaning forwards with his brow wrinkling into familiar creases. He made no sound but Scott could feel the change instantly, anticipation and dread prickling over his skin like an old friend.

“I’ve lost his signal.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, I don’t have eyes on him Scott. It was probably knocked out by the surge the collision created.”

Scott nodded numbly, unable to shake the fear that was settling deep in his bones.

“That’s probably it,” he said in agreement, his voice distant and echoing as he stared at the mark where his brother had been.

“Scott?”

“John?”

“What do you want me to do?”

There’d already been so many close calls with Gordon. There was only one thing to do.

“Call Alan and Virgil.”

“They’re not going to be able to help, Scott.”

Distantly, Scott knew this. He also knew that Virgil would never forgive him if they found that something had gone desperately, dreadfully wrong, and he hadn’t been given any updates on the situation. He knew too that Alan shouldn’t know about the dark fears that were running through his head, knew that Alan had a penchant for overactive imaginings that would become too real and too overwhelming for him to focus on his own mission five hundred million miles from home.

He knew there was always a chance for Alan’s waking nightmares to come true. But he had to give them some warning, right here, right now, before the moment passed by and he was having to speak about his brother in the past tense.

“No speculation, John,” he said. He wet his lips, trying to force his anxieties from his mind. “Tell them about the missiles, the evac. Let them know I’m flying out now to pick him up.”

John was quiet, eyes large and worried as he looked down at his brother. Scott knew what he was asking John to do, just like he knew Virgil would see past the façade into John’s uneasy gaze. He knew he was asking John to do the one thing he was never very good at.

“Keep me updated,” he instructed, and then strode from the room before John could reason his way out of the mess Scott was putting him in.

He made one last call before firing up Thunderbird One’s rockets.

“Gordon, I’m coming for you. This is the last time I pick you up from one of your wild parties.”

At least if his brother could hear him, he’d be able to have a laugh.

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the FAB Five Feb challenge on tumblr by @Gumnut  
> Prompts used were "What do you mean?"  
> Cross posted from Tumblr, orginally posted on 29/02/2020
> 
> Thank you for reading!! This is likely to be continued, but fair warning it is not a priority wip right now.


End file.
